


Killed By My Bugs

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [222]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Multi, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:32:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@sparrowsverse asked for  Leverage, 113 and tumblr was being a dick in making it easy to respond but here we go:  Black Bugs by Regurgitator (LOLOLOL)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killed By My Bugs

 

It should have been easy.  Straightforward.  After all they’d done, a fricking cake walk.

Maybe that was it.  They’d gotten complacent, routine, _careless_.

The recon had shown a stock-standard Rodgers TM 9000 virtual defense package.  Firewalls, a few sniffers, some integrated physical security, nothing too difficult for Hardison to hack, bypass or just straight out kill.

By the time it had started to go wrong, it was already too late.  Parker and Eliot were deep inside, working on the last vault door.  Hardison was in the van, drinking orange soda and eating gummy frogs, talking shit to Eliot over the coms.

Normal.

Then something on his monitor went from green to red.  One little square of colour, so glaringly out of place.

“Guys, hold up. I’ve got a weird system alert.”

“What kind of weird?” Eliot had growled over the coms.  In the background, Hardison could hear Parker drilling the lock.

Hardison’s fingers were clattering over the keys, probing links, sorting data.  “Something’s come online. Something new.  Hold on, guys, gimme a sec to check what this is, maybe some kind of aftermarket patch…” his mouth was already racing ahead of his brain, and his hands struggled to keep up.

Parker, his beloved Parker, he could hear the smirk in her voice.  “I’m in.”  The squeak of metal opening…

Hardison didn’t even get to say anything back.  Her com just went dead.

Eliot’s lit up with swearing, with Parker’s name, with his name. Hardison’s heart beat spiked.  “Eliot, what’s happening? Parker?   _Parker!”_

Eliot was…he was frantic.  Hardison hadn’t heard Eliot like this since a graveyard a long time ago.  “Shit, Hardison, the vault was…they electrocuted her..I’m bringing her out.”

Bringing.  Carrying.  She wasn’t walking.

Hardison swallowed a thousand questions.  “Clearing a path.”

He pulled up his map of the building.  The quiet corridors were alive with movement, sensors, guards, everything that shouldn’t be there now.  “Eliot, man, escape route’s cut off.”  He watched as Eliot’s com signal diverted for the stairs.

It never made it.  Hardison heard it all this time, the sound of gun fire, Eliot’s small, pained grunt.

Hardison sat still behind the keyboard, eyes locked on the “n” key.  The police found him some time before dawn.

Holding was empty at 6am on a Wednesday morning.  It was designed to hold drunks, bail jumpers, dangerous drivers.  There was a high ceiling, and a blanket on the bed.

Game over.


End file.
